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And the Little One Said, Roll Over

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"This is a little weird," Morgan says. He's kind of squished, but that's what you get when Garcia's using you for a body pillow and there's six other people taking up bedspace. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but weird."

"Understatement of the year," Rossi cracks from between Hotch and Prentiss.

From somewhere to Morgan's left - he can't actually turn over, Garcia's cuddled in tight to his front and Reid has an arm sort-of slung over him as he uses Garcia's shoulder as a pillow - JJ laughs and tugs one of the blankets over from the pile they'd made at the foot of the bed.

"Says the guy whose bed we're invading."

Morgan has to admit, he's jealous of Rossi's bed, too. King-size, with obscene thread-count sheets and enough room for seven adults to sleep spooned together in a combination line and pile. He's got a nice bed at his own apartment, but he's glad they all crashed here after cooking.

Besides, after they'd finally cracked open the wine, they'd all had at least two glasses each, and none of them should have been driving. This is a good solution.

Rossi grumbles, but it's softened by not wanting to wake Hotch. "I told you all you were welcome to crash. I just meant downstairs."

"Ugh, who wants to sleep on a couch when there's a perfectly good bed being all - you know, bedlike?" Garcia says, and Morgan kisses the top of her head. She's adorable when she's half-asleep.

"I would," Reid says absently. "Rossi's couch is better than my actual bed."

"I told you to get a new one," JJ says, then shuts up.

She's still walking on eggshells around Reid, though it's not a hard deduction considering Reid had curled up on the end next to Garcia, and there's six people between him and JJ. If Rossi's three pillows weren't already at a premium, he'd probably use those, too.

Reid responds, and luckily, it's not the sharp tone of the past three weeks. "I keep forgetting."

"Can Morgan and I take you bed-shopping, Boy Genius?" Prentiss asks, peeking her head over Morgan's shoulder to look at Reid.

"Wait, why you and Morgan?" Rossi asks. "Something you want to tell me, Emily?"

"You hate shopping, Dave," she says, settling back into the curve of his arm. "I like shopping and Morgan's my muscle. Someone's got to figure out how to get the old bed out and the new bed in, not to mention headboard logistics."

Morgan stifles a first laugh into Garcia's hair, and completely fails at muffling the second when she singsongs "Oooooh, Dave and Emily, sitting in a tree."

Seriously, if he hadn't known about them before, Rossi's now-unsurprising lack of anger over her death would have clued him in. Rossi hadn't been grief-stricken or distraught or angry like he and Reid and Garcia had been, because either Hotch had told him about faking Emily's death, or Emily had told him herself about the possibility. The jury is still out over how, exactly, Hotch fits, considering his whatever-it-was with Rossi.

It's probably just as complicated as Reid and JJ. Or himself and Garcia, for that matter.

His pink-haired goddess has apparently moved on to the second line of the song, and a pillow comes flying from somewhere to the left. To his, and everyone else's, astonishment, it's a half-awake Hotch, hair sticking up all over the place, still curled up against Rossi's shoulder.

"Go to sleep, Garcia. And yes, that's an order."